


Who Knew?

by kinneyb



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, I love this trio, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-18 04:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18113405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: When Quentin first met Eliot at the age of twelve, he never imagined how his life would change, but now that he's older and wiser, he's not sure he can ever thank the universe enough for putting them in each other's lives. (Queliot Childhood Friends AU)





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> this is only gonna have a few chapters but yeet i love a good childhood friends au  
> ★ please follow me on twitter @ queermight & check out my pinned tweet! ★

Quentin met Eliot when he was twelve. He had been playing with Julia during class (throwing paper airplanes back and forth when the teacher wasn't looking) when the teacher suddenly got a call. After a couple minutes of hushed conversation, their teacher - Quentin could barely remember her face nevertheless her name - walked to the door.

"I'll be right back," she said. She opened the door and that was the first time Quentin got a glimpse of Eliot's face. Back then, he hadn't known him, though, so it was just a random pale kid with a mop of messy, dark hair.

He leaned forward. "I think we're getting a new student."

Julia beamed. "We have to befriend them," she said. "Before they get a hold of 'em."

Quentin nodded, leaning back in his chair and watching the door. Finally, the door opened again. Their teacher entered the room followed by the boy from earlier. He had a blank look on his face that made Quentin kind of uncomfortable.

"Everyone," the teacher introduced with a sweep of her hand, "this is Eliot Waugh."

Julia looked back at Quentin over her shoulder, grinning. Quentin smiled back.

/

"You have to be our friend," Julia announced at recess, hands on her hips. They were standing over Eliot, who had found a nice spot under a tree. 

He lifted an eyebrow. "Why?" he asked curiously. He seemed to be asking Julia, but his eyes were on Quentin. With a shiver, Quentin looked away.

Julia plopped down on the grass, and patted the spot beside her. Quentin sat down, too. "Those guys over there?" she asked, pointing at a group of five boys laughing together. "They're jerks, and they will try to get you to join them."

"What if I'm a jerk, too?" Eliot asked. 

Julia shook her head. Then, she grinned. "You're not," she said with confidence. "I can tell."

"Ah," Eliot turned toward Quentin. He smiled a little. At the time, Quentin didn't know the word for that kind of smile: devious. "And you?"

Quentin opened his mouth. Then, looked to Julia for help. She simply gestured in a 'go on' kind of manner. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he picked lazily at a blade of grass. "I think you're okay," he mumbled, "if Julia does."

When he looked up, Eliot was still staring at him. "Okay," he decided. "Let's be friends."

/

"Let's play a game," Eliot said. They were at Quentin's house - he hadn't been thrilled about the idea of inviting Eliot, but Julia had insisted and he was never good at saying no to her. 

Quentin looked up from his book. He glanced at Julia.

"Sure," she replied. "What kind of game?"

Eliot pursed his lips, looking to be deep in thought. "I don't know," he sighed eventually. He walked over to Quentin. "What's your favorite game?"

"I," Quentin flushed. He ducked his head. "Nothing."

Julia rolled her eyes. "He loves playing pretend," she said like it was nothing. Quentin wasn't sure why he was so embarrassed; Julia had never made him feel this way before. Maybe it was because Eliot was new. 

"Oh," Eliot blinked a few times. Then, he grinned. "What kind?"

Julia got up from her spot on the floor, dusting her skirt off. "Fantasy, typically." She looked at Quentin. "He loves playing the hero."

"Julia," Quentin hissed, shoving his face in his book. 

"That sounds like fun," Eliot said, surprisingly soft. He gently took the book from Quentin's hands. "How about you play the hero and save me?"

Quentin opened his mouth. Closed it. 

"He'd love that!" Julia exclaimed excitedly.

/

"You're, like, really smart," Quentin said in awe. He stared at Eliot's tests, all marked with a big red A. 

For the first time ever, Eliot seemed to be the embarrassed one. He laughed sheepishly, shoving the papers in his desk. "Who cares?" he asked.

Quentin wanted to say I do, but he didn't. That was weird - why would he care if Eliot got good grades or not? He'd only been at their school for a few weeks. Standing up, he went to the door and Eliot followed.

Julia was waiting for them in the courtyard. 

/

Quentin was doing homework when he heard something like a smack. He looked up just in time to see the source of the sound; a rock hit his window and bounced off. Glancing at the door, he wondered if his parents would come check.

They didn't, so he stood up and went over to the window. He was surprised, but somehow kind of not at the same time. Messing with the latch, he opened the window and glanced down through the darkness.

"Eliot?" he whispered.

Eliot stared up at him, but in the dark Quentin couldn't really see much beyond his eyes, always so clear. "Can you let me spend the night?"

"I," Quentin glanced back over his shoulder. "My parents..." he trailed off.

"Quentin," Eliot called up. His voice was different from usual. "Please."

He snuck downstairs and to the front door. When he opened it, he could finally see Eliot properly. His right eye was swollen and an ugly purple color. "What..." Quentin shook his head, closing and locking the door.

Eliot walked to the couch and sat down gingerly.

Quentin stood awkwardly near the television. "Uh... want some tea?"

Slowly, Eliot looked up. He chewed on his lip. "You're not going to ask?"

"I mean," Quentin stared at his eye; it was fresh, obviously, and painful. "If you wanna tell me, I'll listen."

Eliot nodded meekly. "Tea sounds good," he muttered.

"Okay," Quentin disappeared from the room.

/

Eliot didn't attend school for a few days. When he finally showed up again, his face was healed. Quentin had wanted to tell Julia about it, but he hadn't. He knew it wasn't his place, and it wasn't like he had any answers for her.

Slowly, a routine began forming; every couple of weeks Eliot would show up at Quentin's house in the middle of the night, usually with a new series of cuts and/or bruises.

They didn't tell Julia or anyone for that matter. 

It was their little secret. Quentin still thought Eliot was kind of weird. He was mature for their age and always had this look on his face like he knew something Quentin and Julia didn't, but they were growing closer and he was happy for that.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this is an au  
> yes magic still exists  
> don't @ me

Eliot finally confessed to Quentin when he was fourteen. They were sitting in Quentin's bedroom at midnight. Eliot was nursing a particularly nasty bruise with a bag of frozen vegetables Quentin had stolen from the freezer.

"It's my dad," he said. 

Quentin slowly looked up from his book. He nodded mutely. He was too scared to say anything, afraid he might interrupt the moment. Eliot had always been firm about not telling Quentin who was hurting him. 

He smiled sadly. "He's a homophobic prick."

Quentin blinked a few times. "Oh."

"Yeah," Eliot leaned back against the headboard, squinting his eyes. He adjusted the bag of veggies. "I hadn't even come out when he started," he gestured vaguely at his bruised face, "but I thought if he's gonna do this, might as well give him a reason."

Quentin swallowed audibly. "That's," he didn't know the word. He'd never been very good at comforting people, even Julia.

"You're not going to, like, freak out about me being gay?" Eliot asked.

Quentin shrugged. He smiled faintly. "I don't care," he answered honestly. And he didn't. If he was being honest, he was pretty sure he wasn't straight but he didn't feel like opening that can of worms right now. "You're still my friend."

Eliot smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

/

"We should tell Julia," Quentin stared at Eliot, unwavering. He wasn't usually this confident, but he was sure about this. 

Eliot sighed heavily, picking at a loose strand on his sweatshirt. "I know," he muttered. "I just - I don't know how."

Quentin reached out, placing a hand on Eliot's arm. He smiled warmly. "You told me."

"I," Eliot looked away. "That's different."

Quentin shook his head. "How?"

"It's - " Eliot jerked when the door opened. They both turned to see Julia. 

She smiled brightly, holding up a plate covered with foil. "I brought brownies."

Julia handled the news pretty well. "I will murder him with my own two hands," she announced dramatically.

"You're fifteen," Quentin said. 

Julia lifted both eyebrows, crossing her arms. "You doubting my abilities to stab a man?"

Eliot burst out laughing, interrupting the conversation. "Please don't kill my dad."

"I," Julia frowned a little. She walked over and sat with Eliot on the couch. She took his hand and squeezed, firm but gentle. "I'm sorry, Eliot."

He shrugged, looking away. Quentin could tell he was blushing, but he didn't say anything. Eliot was a confident person, but he oddly disliked being the center of attention. 

"It's okay," Eliot said finally. "I'm just glad I have you guys."

Julia brightened, nodding enthusiastically. "And you always will." She looked at Quentin. "Right, Q?"

Slowly, Eliot glanced at Quentin. He didn't have to think twice. "Yeah."

/

"I have a crush," Quentin stared at Eliot, waiting for his reaction.

The other boy looked up from his homework, squinting his eyes. "On who?"

Quentin flushed. He tilted his head, staring at a spot on the wall. It was a stain from when he was like four or five and had drawn on the walls with a marker. Most of the evidence had been cleaned away, but that spot persisted. "Julia."

"Oh." Eliot went back to his homework. "Good luck."

Quentin wasn't surprised that Julia rejected him, but he was still sad. Eliot came over that night with marshmallows and chocolate. "We're making s'mores." It wasn't a question, but a demand. Quentin smiled sadly.

They stood over the stove, but the marshmallows were not melting.

"Why aren't they melting?" Eliot huffed.

Quentin snickered, turning the stove off. "We need a fire. Like a real one."

"Oh." Eliot grabbed the bag of marshmallows off the counter and walked over to the backdoor. "Wanna see something?"

Quentin didn't know what he was talking about, but he nodded and followed him outside. Their yard was pretty small, but Eliot insisted they go as far from the house as possible anyway. 

"I know you think you probably know my deepest, darkest secret," Eliot began. He stared down at the ground, tossing the bag of marshmallows between his hands. "My dad, I mean, but... there's something else."

Quentin stepped closer. "You can tell me."

"I," Eliot laughed a little. He put a hand out. "I think it'd be better for me to show you. Step back."

Nodding, Quentin stepped back and watched as Eliot started a fire. Just like that. With a flick of his wrists, sure, and some sparks from his fingertips, but still. He blinked. Was he dreaming? He was totally dreaming. "You just..."

He looked up. Eliot flushed. "It's this weird thing I can do. I'm not sure what it is."

"This is, like," Quentin crouched down to look in the fire. He put a hand out; it was definitely real flames. "This is like magic."

Eliot crouched down, too. "I think it is," he muttered. Opening the bag, he got out two marshmallows. "Here," he offered one to the other boy. "Find a stick and let's get roasting."


End file.
